Human

Not in the sense of how a human ought to feel. I was the structured human, decorated with itchy fibre and chemical colours smeared across my inflamed skin but that’s how I was supposed to present myself, right?

I was the pretty human, the polished shell. Concealing flaws that weren’t flaws at all but beauty marks scribbled out with permanent hatred.

I don’t feel like the human I embodied yesterday or the day before that, linear time neatly framing my evolution like the hand of the clock, the skinny hand of course.

Tick, tick, tick, each second anticipating the next and the next until the next came along, which wasn’t quite enough but the next will be better. I’ll wait.

And I waited.

And waited.

Waiting became routine.

And now I don’t feel very human because today I’m not waiting and I realise that wait is such a waste of a word. Waiting for your final breath, waiting for death? Yes, I think I was always waiting to not feel so vulnerable but waiting for strength in my presence only left it hanging on the oak tree.

No, I don’t feel very human today.

Not in the sense that my thoughts are law. I understand you if you mimic the projector in my head, you better know exactly what I’m thinking! I think I was replaying the stories of others over and over and wondering why I wasn’t credited at the end. I was the unpaid diva, flamboyant for laughs and admiration, put a penny in my slot and I’ll show you a good time, just because.

I don’t like that colour but I’ll wear it if you say so.

And I don’t like saying that but if you say that I should, then I will.

Investing in others became routine

And now I don’t feel very human because I don’t want to invest in others anymore, so who’s left to invest in. Myself? Surely that’s selfish, to think of me first.

I don’t feel very human today because I’m feeling so much more.

Yes, my back aches and my tummy swells and my dry skin flakes and for some unknown reason my heels are sore but I’m gonna sit with these sensations and love every damn moment, because there is no one else who can feel these things the way I feel them, apart from me.

I don’t feel very human today because I feel valid.

And I don’t want to hear if others think I’m not.

And I care very little if others judge my ways.

Because I’m shedding skin and I love what’s underneath and it’s so much more than the human I once limited myself to be.